The
weather today, I think, was a result of the wrath of God over
something. (How should I know what? I'm not God. Officially.
...Well, you didn't hear it from me, ok?) Like all good love
affairs it started off hot. Damn hot. Hotter than the inside of a
swimmer's swimsuit suit; which is to say a really hot inside of a
swimmer's swimsuit suit. Then, as if weather was changeable or
God was vengeful, it got cold. Damn cold. Colder than the inside
of a swimmer's swimsuit suit. Then cloudy. Damn cloudy... Then
the torrential rain started. Damn, there was a lot of rain. (I
trust you are keeping the love affair analogy going for forgetful
me). It was like that movie Hard Rain, with all the rain, or like
when there's a load of rain and floods on the news, except not
really so bad as either. I guess I should have drawn some comfort
from the fact that God hates Hollywood and Bangladesh more than
he/she/it (BLASPHEMER!) does me, but there was no time. For
verily did the solid sheet of rain become solid rain; that which
is known to the Hittites and the Canaanites and the Stalagmites
and the Parasites as hail. Huge fuck-off chunks of ice fell from
the sky so fast that I couldn't see them before they hit the
ground and bounced up. Again, this could have been the act of a
Loki God, inviting me to make the leap away from logic and
common-sense that so many of those who surround me - my disciples
if you will (they won't) - have made. Perhaps I was being invited
to step away from my empirical cynicism, and instead believe that
ice was trying to jump towards heaven.
All
that God stuff is just summat I thunk up to offend a coupla yo'
sensibilities here on this frosty August morn in Albuquerque. As
the weather reverted back to the mundane, tired ennui of Temps
Part Two (this time they're personnel), my thoughts turned to
grass. After all that God could throw at it, still the grass kept
growing, more luscious and verdant than ever. Could this be the
answer to world hunger, or would that remain obese Americans with
more rancid pig fat than sense? Hell, grass'll grow anywhere.
Although usually found on lawns and in fields, how many of us
have marvelled at a few blades of grass growing through the piss
and concrete in the corner of a car park or some other
apocalyptic expanse that society has lain down? All the things I
am claiming grass to be, smelly hophead grasshopper hippies claim
grass to be. 'Cept they can get high and make clothes with their
grass, but woe betide any man who uses their grass to satiate his
hunger. My grass will feed the world. Let them know it's May 9th.
Now
I'm not advocating collecting up all our lawn clippings and
sending them off to Africa. That'd be nothing more than the
actions of a foo and an ijut. No n-n-n no n-n no no. Africa has
been fucked-over enough. What we must do is collect up all our
food and send it to people in Africa who have never experienced
the pure joy of KFC so slick with grease that it must have been
clitorized (romantic, huh?), or a semi-defrosted fajita with
diseases beyond both my and my dictionary's lexicons. We, the
over-privileged masses of the English speaking world, must gorge
ourselves on grass. We must treat it as payback for the
oppression done unto others by our forefathers (or four fathers
for those of you with slutty parents). It is our duty to serve
penance for this oppression whose benefits we benefit from
beneficially every day. Anyway, it can't be any worse than
garlic, soya milk or edam, can it?
A
wise and boastful man has told of a holocaust to be preceded by
the five plagues of heat, cold, cloud, rain and ice. I submit for
your consideration that this won't be a nuclear one leaving
cockroaches to be the dominant species; I think we are heading
for an environmental holocaust with the only survivors being
grasses and grazing animals: horses, cows and quasi-rebellious
teens. (Nowadays, the true rebellion is conformity). If we are to
maintain our rôle as dominant species on this planet, we must
learn to adapt to eating grass. I am not suggesting evolving
another three stomachs to challenge our vaccine friends
(apparently it means cow-like as well as all that injection
jazz); that is an unnecessary step at this early stage. I am just
recommending the same awareness that led to nuclear bunkers and
duck and cover in the '50s. We must feed the world using grass to
save lives both now and in the apocalyptic future, we must be
wary of the power that cows and horses have over us, and we must
continue to crush cockroaches underfoot out of fear that our
actions will raise them to kings, or elect them as presidents.
Addendum.